Depression and Chill (A Johndave Fanfic)
by Moonmonsoon
Summary: You pause, turning your attention back to him, and watch. John is staring down at the water as it heats up, his smile faded, eyes tired and nose a little red and raw from rubbing. You love him, and you want to help. ((Just a quick thing, idk! Still workin it out, might add more chapters if someone wants, shrug! -Moon))


Ok. Ok! Ok. Deep breath, Strider. You've got this. You've only been best friends with him for like. Years, now. Dating for a little over one. Shit. There's that smile, greeting you at the door not even a second after you'd knocked. "Dave! I saw you through the window." "Wow dude, stalker, much?" he grins wider, stepping aside so you have room to enter. "Shut up and get inside. It's cold out!" You raise your hands in mock defeat "Don't have to tell me twice."

You purse your lips as you step into his home, holding in a sigh of relief. You really weren't made for all this snow. Shit's terrible. "I was just about to make hot cocoa, want a mug?" "I mean, it'd be rude to refuse such hospitality" you say in mock-Rose with a smirk, and he shakes his head and laughs as he leads you into the kitchen. Alright, Dave. Focus. You take a closer look at him, leaned against the counter as he sets to work. He's definitely a fairly chipper guy- but something feels... a little off. His posture is slumped, heavy bags under puffy eyes. Worrying, to say the least.

You turn your attention to the fridge door, where several pictures and old news clippings are held up by magnets. You've… always been bad at this. Confrontation, of the emotional sort. Helping, in nearly any case. You know this. But you've got to be the one to help. You have to be there for him. He's always been there for you- helped you through the bullshit Bro put you through, held your hand when an odd metallic noise made you jump, held you until you felt secure again. It's not that it's some form of obligation, you just. You pause, turning your attention back to him, and watch. John is staring down at the water as it heats up, his smile faded, eyes tired and nose a little red and raw from rubbing. You love him, and you want to help.

Carefully stepping closer, you hold a hand slowly in his field of view for just a moment before wrapping your arm around him. Pulling him close. Gentle, gentle. He's shaking, just slightly, and as you step back a bit to make sure he doesn't touch the heated pot he turns and hides his face in your neck. Humming softly, you press a kiss to the side of his head "…You don't have to talk. Just.. Let it out." When he'd called, earlier, his voice wavered and the occasional sniffle or sob had broken his sentences. He'd asked that you'd come later, sometime past 5.

It had been 4:17 when he called, 5:30 when you came over. It's 5:46 now.

You're always acutely aware of the time. It's kind-of grounding, at times- maddening, at others. Now, you can't help but count each second John spends like this, each minute he sits in your arms, sobbing and mumbling unintelligible phrases and sentences. Sometimes an apology, sometimes a memory. You kiss his forehead, tell him it's ok, no need to apologize. That wasn't his fault. There was nothing he could do, there. He did his best and his best was so good, he did a great job. After what feels like forever- though you know it was just 4 more minutes- he pulls back, rubbing harshly at his eyes to discard the hot tears. You reach up, cupping his cheek, soothingly running your thumb along the soft skin repeatedly. Wiping away the tears, reaching up with your other hand to brush the other side with the back of your fingers, then gently reaching for his hand.

He takes it quickly, a small and shaky smile gracing his features. Nearly 5:51, but not quite. He's staring at the pattern on your shirt, gently tracing it with his other hand. You reach up and run your fingers through his hair, then grab the still-warm cocoa from the coffee table beside the couch and offer it to him. He holds the mug close, letting go of your hand to keep a secure grip on it. Takes a tentative sip, relaxes a bit

Watching him, again, you can't help but feel your heart ache. How long has he been holding all this in? You notice the urn sitting above the fireplace, the pipe resting beside an old picture of John's dad. Did he ever talk to him about this stuff? Pop Egbert always seemed like an understanding, kind guy. Then again, as you glance around the house, you realize. This is the house John grew up in. The house he left behind. The place he'd last seen his dad for awhile, before finding him dead. So many childhood memories, lost to the pool of trauma and circulation of depression. It's… Probably not best for him to stay here, all the time. Hidden away in his childhood room, passing by his old man's room any time he decides to step out. You can't help but feel a little guilty for not addressing this sooner, but any time you'd tried to bring it up before he'd brush it off and change the subject. This time, he'd called you for help, so you acted as quickly as you could.

Reaching for your own mug of cocoa, you return your attention to him as you take in the sweet drink. After another long pause (3 minutes, this time), you decide to speak up. "How would you like to come stay with me, for a bit?" his eyebrows raise, and he watches you just as closely as you had been, from behind the safety of your shades. "I just mean, like.. new sorta environment might do ya some good. Get away from the monotony, n shit. If.. you'd be into that" you take another sip from the mug, and watch as his expression splits into a small grin- mischievous. "Well, Dave, are you asking me to move in with you?" You feel your cheeks heat up, and _maybe_ a bit of a smile manages to worm its way onto your lips, too. You hide it behind the mug "Hmm... possibly.. or I could just be asking for a... test run?" He sets his cocoa down, then gently grabs yours away from you and sets it down. You feel yourself panic for just a moment, trying to straighten out your expression, to remain calm- but as he leans in, nice n close.. You feel yourself genuinely relax, and smile more. John presses a light kiss to the corner of your lips, and hums whatever tune it was you'd had stuck in your head earlier. "I'd love to stay over at your place. Think I need it, to be honest." He rests his head on your shoulder, and slumps a little "Need to get away from here, for a bit. This house. and.. spending more time with you is definitely a plus"

You wrap your arms around him, and the two of you relax into the couch. You set aside the clock ticking away in your head, for just a bit. Enjoy the moment while you've got it, regardless of how long it is.


End file.
